


Watch Her Trudge Through Gilded Fields

by SnitchesGetStitches



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't read unless you've finished the game, F/M, Lots of in-game banter, Needed to get this shit off my chest, Now my heavy soul can rest in peace, Oneshot, Quick references to 'The Reaping', Romance, Set in Deadfire, Spoiler-Filled, Takes place right after Eder's bittersweet rejection, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Thick-headed Farmboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnitchesGetStitches/pseuds/SnitchesGetStitches
Summary: Edér comes around.Finally.





	Watch Her Trudge Through Gilded Fields

 

She's read the signs wrong, it would seem.  
  
Kind of ironic for someone who's able to read people's souls.  
  
What a lousy Watcher she makes.  
  
She hadn't reached this conclusion by mere wishful thinking, mind you. No, there were things that he did. Gestures, looks, smiles. Things that were said, too. And not just from him, but from their whole entourage. Like when the statue of Caed Nua had told her of the weeks he'd spent locked up in her room, rooted to that chair adjacent to her bed, waiting for her to wake up. The Steward had heard the farmer mumble prayer after prayer and utter unintelligible pleas for a miracle throughout the numerous nights of their unstable journey. His claims of trying to force her awake by shaking or slapping her lifeless body, which she had taken as light-hearted jokes, had turned out to be true, according to the spirit.  
  
She knows Edér to be a kind and caring person, but she's never seen him go to such lengths for anyone else. Who would do this for someone they haven't seen in five years? Someone they didn't even bother to write to all this time, despite their professed camaraderie? His actions had left her nonplussed, hence her sudden inquiries about the possible, underlying nuances of their rekindled connection.  
  
She'd waited until he'd finished his confusing confession about the importance of their friendship to ask if his feelings for her were more complicated than he seemed amenable to let on. Even encouraged him to warn her if he ever changed his mind, after his tender rejection. Because why not, after all? If she was willing to look ridiculously desperate in front of him, might as well go all the way, right?  
  
At least, her demeanor wasn't as naive and wanton as Xoti, who really had a problem understanding the meaning of subtlety.

Walking the paved streets of Neketaka brings her back to the present. The city brims with citizens and tourists who don't necessarily pay heed to where they are going, thus navigating through these busy crowds with your head in the clouds isn't something she'd recommend.  
  
The ambient noise isn't enough to cover the sound of Serafen's voice, however.  
  
"You had me right fooled, farmer."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"About The Watcher. 'Parently had her fooled too." His tone is patently accusing.  
  
"Well, I'm not much for foolin'... Unless it's more like pouring tree sap in someone's breeches."  
  
"Uh huh," the orlan scowls, sounding as unconvinced as can be.  
  
Sweet Serafen's always had her back since their very first meeting. She hadn't expected such loyalty from such a foul-mouthed pirate, but the people of the Deadfire seemed to like proving her wrong.  
  
She only wishes the newest member of their little party, a skilled watershaper, hadn't decided to revive the debate. Especially during the awkward silence that had resulted from the two men's conversation.  
  
"You and the Captain traveled together all that time, but never..." the shark implies.  
  
"No, that's uh... not how things played out." Edér rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. "Just... never saw it that way."  
  
"Ugh, Ngati weeps for such wasted potential!"  
  
_So do I._  
  
Ngati's chosen starts flirting with her frequently after that.  
  
She wonders if Edér had felt as bad as she does whenever she has to rebuff Tekēhu's impromptu advances.  
  
  
~  
  
  
She always sleeps better out here than on the ship. Noises of the wilderness, accompanied by the crackling flames of their campfire, put her in a lethargic trance that facilitates her passage into a land of troubling dreams. The partial loss of her soul has left her limbs feeling constantly cold for some strange reason, which explains why she makes a point of laying under so many blankets every night.

Freya is on the verge of slipping into an agitated slumber when Edér comes to her, dragging his bedroll along the grass in his wake. His green orbs capture her golden ones as he hunches over her.  
  
"Wouldn't mind if I shared your spot, would you?"  
  
She stretches out, hiding a yawn behind a shaky palm. "What brought this on?"  
  
"Xoti's gettin' kinda bold lately. Came to me with a bottle of rum, shook me awake and tried to sneak her way into my bedroll."  
  
The Watcher chuckles warmly, eyes closed. "Poor farmer. Must me hard to be so popular with the lasses."  
  
"Never thought I'd ever have to protect my hind from priestesses but, I guess there's a first to everything."  
  
She pats the vacant space next to her sleepily, still smiling. "Don't worry, you can sleep on both ears. I swear to protect your virtue, should the need arise."  
  
"I feel safer already."  
  
He settles beside her, the fabric of his clothes and bedroll rustling with each of his movements. Something about his proximity eases her into sleep faster than usual. As if his presence was enough to replace the void left by her missing soul.

She fails to realize that his nervous gaze stays locked onto her face for the first half of the night.  
  
Not that he's very aware of it either.  
  
  
~  
  
  
Edér found The Watcher's flushed cheeks and mortified expression extremely funny, or so he'd told her.

It's most likely why he'd decided to make it happen as much as possible ever since he'd mentioned Elafa's screaming habits in bed.  
  
Her reaction had been 'priceless', to quote the blond.  
  
They've been exploring an old crypt full of fampyrs for the last hour, trying to hide from enemies behind dark, shadowy corners.  
  
The low-key approach is working well enough, considering that none of them are dead yet.  
  
The exit is only a few steps further. They should be able to avoid detection by progressing onward one by one. Edér being directly within reach, Freya pokes him in the ribs repeatedly, hoping to get his attention so that she can silently order him to sneak up to the other wall. It's not like she has a lot of options. None that wouldn't make too much noise anyway.  
  
He's crouched rather close already, but still finds it necessary to bend down until his mouth hovers next to her ear. "Y'know, if you do this enough, I'll get a permanent plus five to Deflection." He winks.  
  
She's pretty sure real-life combat doesn't work through statistics and numbers, but she's too distracted to voice her addled thoughts.  
  
His playful words whispered directly into her sensitive appendage are enough to send shivers down her spine. To her dismay, the effect even manages to reach inappropriate places.  
  
An uncomfortable warmth spreads across her face. A reaction she tries to conceal by using her hair as a shield. His knowing smirk indicates it's a bit too late to save face. She'd probably whine if they weren't currently stuck in a potential life-and-death situation.  
  
From the rear of their convoy, Tekēhu snickers discreetly. "Careful now. We need the captain to function if we want to get out of here alive."  
  
Minutes later, the group finally finds its way out of the dank ruins, all of them unscathed.  
  
All but her pride.  
  
  
~  
  
  
It's hard.  
  
No matter how much effort she puts into it, repressing her undesired feelings for a certain Eothasian is nigh impossible. She's starting to understand Xoti's frustrated ramblings about the man. Most women probably can't see past his sunny grin and emerald eyes, the priestess included. But not Freya. For her, what stands out the most is his soul.  
  
Golden. Dazzling. Burning like a thousand candles.  
  
When she dreams of him, his face isn't what comes to mind. Instead, she finds herself standing amid a gilded field of wheat, the color of his hair and beard. She searches for a path out of this endless vale and trudges through this vast expanse for hours on end, all in vain. Respite comes in the form of a particularly potent ray of sunlight, shining down upon the center of the cultivated land. The grounding smell of pipe smoke invades her nostrils as soon as the light touches her skin.  
  
That's usually the instant her brain chooses to wake her up.  
  
The Watcher and her party make their way through Queen's Berth after disembarking from the Defiant, each of them seemingly lost in thought. Even at dawn, the market's air is stuffy and humid. Though she has trouble focusing on the task at hand, she finds comfort in Pallegina's serene aura and resolute paces. Sauntering alongside the paladin has always been an efficient way to calm her nerves.

Until Edér obliviously opens his big mouth again, that is.

"All right! Which one of us am I thinkin' of now?" he asks their furry pirate friend.

Serafen grunts, tangibly annoyed. "You'd be thinkin' of The Watcher."  
  
"That's ten in a row!" he beams, laughing. "That's some talent you got."

The cipher sighs, rolling his eyes. "Aye, the talent of noticing who you'd be glancin' at 'fore you ask me who you'd be thinkin' of."

The fact that he's been thinking of the same person seven times out of ten doesn't help his case, she supposes.

How can she not hope for more when he keeps doing that?

Out of nowhere, her swords' voice resounds amidst her mind. "Poor guy's none too bright, but those _muscles_. Hng!"  
  
_Hng indeed._

Edér and Tekēhu spend the rest of the morning sharing conspiratorial whispers.  
  
Later that night, as Freya wobbles through a dreamless sleep, she gets to understand what all their private gossip was about.

A ridiculous amount of water brutally splashes onto her face, an alarmed gasp escaping her as she abruptly awakens. She spits out some of the liquid, her hands finding purchase upon her sodden sheets in order for her to raise her upper body upward.  
  
Muffled laughter can be heard from behind her door, propagating deeper and deeper throughout the lower deck as the perpetrators hastily flee the crime scene. Growling, she wipes her eyes and gets up. It takes barely five minutes for her to track them down to their hiding spot. She barges into the ship's dining area, soaked to the bone.  
  
"All right boys, should I take the fish to beat up the farmer, or the opposite? I'm quite indecisive."  
  
Tekēhu and Edér watch her cautiously, hands raised in surrender. With wary smiles, the duo progressively backs off towards the room's other exit. They undoubtedly think she doesn't notice their hopeless attempt.  
  
"Think you can get away? Maybe. Question is, which one of you will it be? The runner, or the swimmer?" she wonders, rolling up the sleeves of her tunic in a threatening manner.  
  
The response turns out to be neither.  
  
  
~  
  
  
Freya's stomach is still trying to digest Xoti's passably edible stew when Edér eventually takes the priestess aside, guiding her behind a large oak to set her straight once and for all, fed up with her attempts to engender his affection.  
  
Understandable, given that the girl has been at it all evening.  
  
"I'm not interested in a sheltered, overzealous little girl," his voice booms from their shrouded location.  
  
Aloth and Freya exchange worried glances, lips pinched in discomfort. Serafen scratches his beard while wincing, both physically and audibly.  
  
_And I thought I had it bad..._  
  
A bunch of colorful words continue to stream from the farmer's mouth, some loud enough to be discernible, others not.  
  
Freya has never seen Xoti look so pissed than when the girl finally emerges from the treeline, her gait hurried and menacing. She promptly takes place next to her captain, staring at the ground as if she were trying to burn a hole in it.  
  
Edér returns a moment later, sitting down on a nearby log and lighting his pipe before absentmindedly proceeding to pet their hairy tagalong. Not Serafen, but a tiny pig nicknamed Chauncey. Though his anger appears subdued, Freya knows it lingers. The way his nostrils flare every so often and the unsteady rise and fall of his chest are a dead giveaway.  
  
She wants to get up and offer him a firm embrace.  
  
That doesn't happen.  
  
Rather, The Watcher's hand settles over the younger girl's until she relaxes the white-knuckled grip she has on her sickle. She doesn't condone Xoti's actions, but she understands her bitterness, to a degree.

In the following days, the priestess blatantly ignores the farmer's existence, going so far as healing everyone but him in the midst of battle.  
  
Freya has a few words with her about that.  
  
"Whatever comradeship or enmity we share for one another, we're a team. We all need to work together if we want to stay alive. I can't do this alone, and neither can you. Don't you want to meet your god, Xoti?"

"Course I wanna meet Gaun! Look, I'll try, all right? It's just..." she trails off, letting out a deep huff. "His words are still fresh in my mind and my pride's still wounded. You heard what he said, didn't you? He was kinda loud during the worst parts."  
  
"You two don't need to be best pals, all I want is to be sure you won't endanger Edér's life because of your differences."  
  
"I won't, Watcher. I promise."  
  
"Good."  
  
  
~  
  
  
Bearn's dead.

Edér sincerely hopes he's at his mother's side, and not Eothas'.  
  
From his experience, nothing good comes out of following the gods, whether through your faith, or physically, by sailing on a ship across the Deadfire. The boy sure didn't deserve that kind of fate. If that 'Bosc' prick hadn't swallowed his poison himself, Edér would have gladly forced it down his throat. But there was no need for that.

Both were already dead when they arrived.  
  
Elafa would have wanted the boy to survive, as any mother would. But had she been alive, she would also have been seriously mad at Edér for trying to involve himself in her son's life.  
  
The kid wasn't his. He had no right.  
  
That's what she'd tell him.  
  
The last words she'd spoken to him keep looping through his thoughts.

 _“Edér, you could do anything you wanted to in life if your skull wasn’t so blazing thick. You’re a nice man. Do me a favor. Stay here. Meet a nice girl you can drive crazy with your misguided gestures.”_  
  
An image of The Watcher's burning cheeks takes root within his head, for unknown reasons.  
  
_"I know you better than you do. Not that that's hard. I look into your eyes, you know what I see? Loyalty. Obligation.”_  
  
She might be right, and that's what pisses him off the most.  
  
How many times had he thought 'I have to, it's the right thing to do' on matters that concerned their relationship?  
  
He finally realizes that he's been sitting here, pondering, for more than an hour now.  
  
That's just like him, getting stuck in the past.  
  
Elafa would want him to move on. She'd told him to. Many times.  
  
He hadn't listened. He's always been dimwitted. No surprise there.

"Aye, cap's busy." Serafen's voice echoes from the room next door. "Someone wants to disturb the lass, they'll have to go through me."

"But she's been locked up in there for ages!" A member of the crew exclaims. "She said she'd play cards with us tonight."

"Change of plans then, lad."

The Watcher...  
  
Edér knows she cries at night, when she thinks no one's looking. And that's just at camp, 'cause on the ship, things get worse. The Steward had clued him in. Not that it was hard to notice. He'd hear her weeping everytime he'd pass by her cabin. The predicament with her soul might be wearing her down. That's _his_ assumption, at least.  
  
He's been pretty selfish about this whole Elafa business. The Watcher's had a lot to deal with these past weeks, lots of things on her mind too, no doubt. Yet she'd persist in making time for his recurring requests.  
  
She goes out of her way for him, but she doesn't _talk_ to him. Doesn't open up. Not like she used to, five years ago. Sure, she jests all the time. Throws a joke or two in the most inappropriate moments, makes him laugh until his ribs start hurting and cuddles every single stray animal they chance upon. That hasn't changed.

And yet something feels off.

The deep and meaningful conversations they'd have after he'd shake her awake to tear her away from her nightmares? Gone.

All of that's been replaced by him cushioning her falls everytime she'd sink into unconsciousness from one of her talks with Eothas or the rest of the gods. Or carrying her back to the ship, her limp frame dangling in his arms.

He misses their heart-to-hearts.  
  
And now he's being hypocritical, 'cause he's been acting aloof and distant himself ever since he'd found her among Caed Nua's rubble.  
  
He hadn't even thanked her for helping him track down his ex-lover. Or for running after that ship and trying to save the boy.  
  
They'd failed, but she did all she could, in the end.  
  
He remembers her grim expression after they'd found Bearn's lifeless body. Full of guilt. She's been deadly mute ever since.  
  
_Seems like I just added one more burden on her consciousness. Don't think she needed the extra weight._  
  
He gets up and drags his feet to the voices' point of origin, landing at the menagerie's door. The crew member has deserted, but Serafen remains, devotedly standing guard. He eyes the farmer up and down, arms crossed and a frown creasing his features.  
  
"Aye, you get a pass. But you two better talk, or you get my boot up your arse."  
  
The orlan abandons his post.  
  
Inside, Edér finds The Watcher hugging one of the dogs to her chest, tears pouring down her face. The canine whines, its head tucked in the crook of her neck. It licks her skin, as if to apologize for something it never did.

He wishes it were that easy for humans. Sadly, he can't just walk up to her and start lapping at her cheek until she feels better.

He'd have to use words, like a man.  
  
Problem is, he's no good with words.  
  
Edér watches them for a few minutes before deciding to leave them alone.

 _Guess I'll just get my ass kicked._  
  
All the way back to his quarters, he tries to convince himself that things are better that way.  
  
  
~  
  
  
The Wild Mare's packed tonight.  
  
A festive mood permeates the tavern as Rekke shows everyone some of his people's traditional dances. Even gives a first-hand lesson to The Watcher. Her braids fly about everytime he makes her twirl. Edér hasn't seen her giggle that much in a while.  
  
To be fair, the pint of ale she's downed earlier might be at fault.  
  
Still, it's pleasant to witness.  
  
Once the excitement subsides, she joins their wizard friend on the sofa he occupies, and the latter automatically pushes the scrolls placed beside him out of the way to accommodate her. She lifts her legs and clutches them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees and commenting on whatever Aloth's presently reading.  
  
The farmer watches the pair converse intimately from afar. The wizard is staring at her like the two of them are in on a secret, while she draws illusory circles upon what resembles a map of the archipelago.  
  
_Probably something to do with his Leaden Key business._  
  
Edér misses the strong complicity he'd once shared with his old companions. Getting back into the rhythm is difficult for him, not because any of them have drastically changed, but because he fears what would happen in the coming weeks.  
  
The Watcher might have come back to life, but the disturbing signs of her former demise were still there. The coldness of her skin, for example. Something he'd picked up on the first time his calloused fingers had accidentally brushed against her soft flesh.  
  
It's worrying. It reminds him that she's always a foot away from turning back into a corpse. That's not a thought he likes to dwell on, yet it stubbornly haunts his mind like a dog after a bone.  
  
When Edér turns his head around to focus back on his stale mead, he finds Serafen staring at him with sharp intent.  
  
"Serafen, thought we agreed you'd stay out of my head."  
  
"Oh, I weren't in your head, lad. You think like an ogre snores. I'd be a fool and a half not to make sure them thoughts ain't full up of trouble."  
  
"What do you think you're gonna find?"  
  
"Nothing particular, just uh... anything."

He does that with The Watcher too. It seems involuntary though, in her case. The girl would start drifting off into self-reflection and suddenly, the cipher would twist his head in her direction and look at her like he'd just overheard the saddest thing imaginable.

Must be why he's so protective of her.  
  
They leave the establishment the next day, in the wee hours of the morning.

Freya is having a hard time overcoming her hangover. She can only blame herself, but admitting that doesn't alleviate her current condition. The blinding sunrays assaulting her pupils at the turn of every street corner are not exactly helping either.  
  
"Say, Aloth..." Edér beckons tentatively. "I may not be the quickest to catch on but, I've been seein' you and the Watcher talkin' a lot."  
  
"T—Talking?" the elf stutters. "No—No harm in talking, is there? Not between two very special friends with lots to uh... talk about."  
  
"Are you two sharing jokes and not lettin' me in on it? Cause that wouldn't be right," the blond chides, clearly vexed by the idea.  
  
At the front of the procession, The Watcher rolls her eyes with profound exasperation.  
  
"This one's the biggest dunce I've ever met," Serafen mutters, just loud enough for her to hear.  
  
"Afraid I gotta agree with you on that one."  
  
  
~  
  
  
Her eyes flutter open, which is quite a feat in itself, considering the atrocious pounding occurring inside her head at the moment. A remaining resonance from Berath's bells is remotely chiming in her ears, making it hard to concentrate on her surroundings. In spite of this temporary handicap, she immediately recognizes her cabin's wooden ceiling.  
  
Edér is sitting next to her comatose form again. Dark circles underline his glazed eyes, plainly exhibiting a lack of proper rest. The sight of this self-inflicted sleep deprivation is becoming a habit. One she'll have to put a stop to, preferably at once.  
  
_Idiot farmer._

"I should probably get you a bed in here, at this rate."  
  
Her voice comes out weaker than expected, and the effort to speak forces her to clear her throat.  
  
Startled, he glances up at her. "If it gets me away from Serafen's snoring, I ain't gonna complain."  
  
He can't hide the unyielding grip fatigue has on his heavy eyelids, no matter the width and radiance of his amused grin. She smiles herself, folding an arm over her eyes to protect them from the blinking light of the lantern swinging above their heads.  
  
The vessel creaks, pitching back and forth at a lethargic pace.

It takes her a full minute to remember what had happened.  
  
Hasongo had been... eventful, to say the least.  
  
"What does he tell you?" his inquiry breaks the peaceful hush of her bedroom. "Eothas, I mean."  
  
"Not much."  
  
"And yet you always look disturbed after speaking with him."  
  
She shakes her head sluggishly. "It's not what he says, it's what he feels."  
  
Edér frowns, confused. "Meaning?"  
  
"There's this... _cord_ between us. We share a connection, what with my soul being stuck inside him. I can sense his feelings. Everytime he looks at me there's that sensation of admiration, and unconditional love. Sadness too. It's overwhelming."  
  
"Sounds like he's pretty fond of you and your opinions, despite you callin' him a jackass."  
  
She snorts. "You heard that?"  
  
"We all did. You babble a lot when you have your visions. Reminds me of old times."

She waits a tad before carrying on. "Don't know if that's a good thing."  
  
He leans back in his chair, unsure on how to react to her statement. "You had me worried, y'know. You didn't budge an inch for the entire trip, and it's quite a long way from the Dyrwood to these islands. After weeks of waiting, I was almost convinced you wouldn't wake up."  
  
"I nearly didn't," she admits shamefully. "Berath had to convince me. Took some time. I was ready to let go."  
  
"To die, you mean." He scowls, giving her a disapproving gander. "What about Eothas? You'd let him cause all this chaos without trying to stop him?"

"Berath implied she'd found someone else to do the job anyway."  
  
"What made you accept, then?"  
  
"She knew what words to use. Oh and, she threatened to throw what was left of my soul into a cat. Reincarnation left a foul taste in my mouth, the last time I tried it. I would rather disappear completely."  
  
"C'mon, that's a depressing way of seeing things. Nothing to hold you back?"  
  
"Like what?" she shrugs. "I've never fit in, no matter the place. I thought getting rid of Thaos would make a difference. That with my purpose fulfilled, I'd finally... I don't know. My soul felt lighter during our travels, despite all the obstacles we encountered. Despite my slow descent into madness. When I settled in Caed Nua, life became so... _boring_."  
  
"Should have paid me a visit," he winks.  
  
She scoffs, scrunching up her nose. " _Please_."  
  
He cocks an eyebrow at her. "What's with the tone? Got somethin' to get off your chest? Cause now would be a good time to do it."  
  
Well, who is she to refuse such an invitation?  
  
"Five years, Edér. Not a single word from you. Nor Aloth. Or any of you for that matter. I thought we were friends," she expresses wistfully. "You know what I came to think after some time? Hey, they got what they wanted, now they'll just move on and forget about me. They don't need anything from me anymore, so why would they bother, huh?"  
  
"Hey, that ain't fair. How can you think like that?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" she chuckles humorlessly. "Hel, you seldom use my name, even after all these years. Who calls their friend 'The Watcher', for fuck's sake?"  
  
"You call me farmboy," he points out.  
  
"It's affectionate! Not a freaking title!"  
  
His gaze softens at her outburst. "Want me to find you a little nickname? Would that make you happy?"  
  
"I don't know, Edér. Why don't you start with Freya?"

A minute elapses, which he spends staring at the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry if I made you feel neglected. Wasn't my intention."  
  
"Course not," she rolls her eyes fondly. "You're far too soft-hearted for that." Her smirk withers bit by bit. "I'm sorry about Bearn. If we'd begun searching West instead of East—"  
  
"Don't go there."  
  
"I'm just sayin—"  
  
A meaty hand pushes against her lips. "Time to shut up."  
  
She grasps his extremity to put it away from her mouth, but doesn't let go of it forthwith.  
  
"Thanks for watching over me," she mumbles softly, her thumb stroking his knuckles.  
  
He squeezes her fingers in retaliation. "Anytime."  
  
It's a nice moment.  
  
If only her heart would stop beating so goddamn hard...  
  
  
~  
  
  
The Watcher has taken to teaching Vela how to pick locks.

For the last hour, the child's been standing between her legs, listening to her instructions as her furry hands were being directed with assiduity. From the opposite side of the boat, Edér observes them thoughtfully. The little orlan's wide, viridian eyes follow Freya's motions with great interest and her ears twitch everytime the chest's padlock gives way under the woman's fiddling.  
  
_Must find the sound satisfying. I know I do._  
  
He can't explain the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets in his lower stomach, just from that simple display. Something about the view makes it hard to look away. It's so distracting in fact, that the drawn-out drags he takes off of his pipe regularly send him coughing and wheezing.

Good thing he has Pallegina to swat his back whenever that occurs.

"Hey, Pallegina. I know your kind, you can't have children. But... would you have wanted them?" he wonders.  
  
"Ac," the paladin replies. "It is because I cannot give my country children, that I give them so much of the life I have."  
  
"When I was younger I took it for granted I'd have 'em one day. Free labor," he chuckles. "But a lot of time passed before I knew it. Hardly gave it a thought until now."  
  
Her mouth molds into a faint smile. "You are not getting any younger. I know you do not like thinking Edér, but maybe it's time to start."

Pallegina gives The Watcher a pointed look, prompting him to follow her gaze. Their captain's voice seeps into his brain, a distant echo resonating from the dark corners of his mind.  
  
_"I could make you see things in a whole new way."_  
  
She'd sounded pretty confident when she'd uttered those words. Seeing as how reserved she's been behaving around him recently, he can't help asking himself where all that conviction has gone.  
  
He'd like to question her about that but, he knows better than to poke the bear.

Women have always seemed unpredictable to him, if not temperamental.

_Guess that's how I like 'em._

The noise of a lock coming undone rings out in the distance.

Victorious, Vela starts bouncing on the spot, wriggling her arms high in the air.  
  
"See, see? I did it! Uncle Serafen, come look!"

After congratulating her apprentice on her first success, The Watcher turns to face Edér, a bright grin lightening up her otherwise exhausted face.

"Good boy!" she praises.  
  
"Uh... Thanks, I guess." He answers awkwardly.

Everyone stares at him as if he'd grown two heads.

That's when he notices the four-legged creature trotting towards Freya, its jaws firmly locked around a set of lockpicks.  
  
"I was speaking to the dog," she clears up, wincing.  
  
"Is there truly any distinction between the two?" Aloth quips.

"Aye," Serafen wades in, "the mutt's way smarter 'an the lad."  
  
  
~  
  
  
They did it.

Well, technically, Eothas did all the work. But they'd still managed to reduce the amount of chaos he would have caused without their intervention.  
  
No more storms. None of the ones generated by the machine sitting atop Ondra's Spire, at least. Now they just have to hope that the Huana will be responsible and won't decide to play dirty tricks on their rivals by reactivating it in the near future.  
  
_The Queen seems the reasonable sort. I'm sure she'll keep the peace. Long enough for us to travel back home safely, at any rate._

Thanks to Eothas, Freya is finally free of Berath's mark. Gone are her annoying bells and their dissonant chimes.

Or her heraldic obligations.  
  
_The gods can go fuck themselves, for all I care._  
  
She looks over the horizon as the Defiant sails west, wondering what destiny will have in store for her now that their journey has reached its end.  
  
_"Your future is for you to decide. Use your freedom well."_  
  
Easier said than done.  
  
Rebuilding Caed Nua seems to be the next logical step for her, but is it really what she wants, in the long term? It's not like she has any definite plan in mind. Projecting forward has never been her strong suit.  
  
After long and touching farewells, Maia, Serafen, Xoti, Pallegina and Tekēhu have gradually returned to their respective duties. Aside from the established crew, only Aloth and Edér remain on the ship. Freya assumes the two will soon follow their companions' example.  
  
Speaking of Edér, the farmer appears disillusioned and pensive as of late. He's been keeping to himself mostly, the loss of his faith affecting him more than he'd like to admit. Envisioning his eventual departure exacerbates the knot already forming in her guts. Perhaps he'll give his former mayoral responsibilities another try. He might also move to Aedyr and track down his parents.  
  
Whatever his choice, she'll miss him dearly.  
  
He comes to her at that moment, mimicking her stance by leaning onto the boat's rail. She's certain he's there to say goodbye.  
  
He doesn't.

"You're staying?" she parrots, her brows furrowing to show her bafflement.  
  
"You seem surprised," he remarks, tilting his head.  
  
"Well, yeah... I assumed you'd be running back home as soon as possible."  
  
_Or to Hasongo, maybe. Find yourself a neat little spot next to Elafa's grave and camp there for the rest of your pitiful existence._  
  
"I ain't exactly in a hurry to go back. Plus, if any mortal is to have the final word in a conflict with the gods, it'll be the Watcher of Caed Nua." Regardless of his wry tone, the smile he casts her way is kind and genuine. "And let's not forget I was told to take care of you. That's at least one thing Eothas and I can agree on."

Ah, yes.

She's still not certain what the god had meant by that.

He'd seemed determined to deliver a message, but he'd done a poor job of getting his point across.  
  
"Do you even care about what the gods are up to anymore?" she queries. "Thought you'd renounced Eothas. Don't even hear you say his name lately. You sure there isn't another reason behind your decision?"  
  
"I might be wrong but, it feels like you're not extremely overjoyed with me bein' around."  
  
"Look, Edér..." she sighs. "If you want to remain on this ship just for convenience, you can say so. I understand. You're a bit lost and, perhaps you feel like you've got nowhere to go. Maybe you don't want to be completely alone after everything that happened. Nothing wrong with that. You know I'll always help you no matter what. I just want you to be honest."  
  
"I want to stay with my best friend, is that so hard to believe? You speak as if you were some kind of nuisance to me. I don't remember treatin' you like that. Ever."  
  
She exhales tiredly, rubbing her stinging eyes. "I'm sorry, all right? Don't mind me and my moody behavior."  
  
His elbow nudges her arm. "Talk to me."  
  
"It's just... I thought you'd all be leaving soon, and that I'd be alone again. After all we've been through it just... seems like too much peace and quiet in too short a time."  
  
"Yeah. I know what you mean," he soughs thoughtfully. His lips twist into a pleased little smirk soon after. "So you were being all mopey cause you were afraid I'd leave you, s'that it?"  
  
"Don't be smug, farmboy."  
  
"Can't help it," he shrugs. "It's good to feel needed."  
  
"Depends on who needs you," she replies, in reference to the gods.  
  
From his answering smile, she can tell he gets it. "I'd like nothing more than to remain by your side, if you'll have me."  
  
"Of course."  
  
He wraps a thick arm around her neck, pretending to choke her. It's really just a stratagem to get her to lean her head onto his shoulder.  
  
They spend the following minutes observing the sunset in serene quietude.  
  
  
~  
  
  
Aloth, Edér and her debate of their future over a glass of expensive vintage and a bowl of candied nuts. After deciding to leave the Leaden Key to its own devices, the wizard sounds conflicted on what to do next.

Realizing that he's not the only one in this predicament appears to lift a weight off his shoulders.  
  
Both men seem surprised to learn that she's not particularly interested in restoring Caed Nua to its former glory. Money shouldn't be an issue, what with the amount of gold she'd amassed in the span of their venture. She could settle anywhere, maybe buy some property large enough to welcome her people. A nice little place where she could keep raising Vela and take care of her crew. She'd hate to put them out of a job, after all.

Edér subsequently invites his friends to make a life in Dyrford. Finding them a humble abode should be easy, in light of his status. 'Used to wish I had someone to show off my work to', he tells them. They reflect on his proposal and, ultimately, accept to give it a try. What do they have to lose?  
  
Not much.  
  
"Eager to move back in with your rich aunt, aren't you?" she quips to Aloth.  
  
He fails to conceal the amused smile that spreads across his lips.

The three of them—or perhaps she should say four, in consideration of the many times Iselmyr partakes in their discussions—grow ever closer during the journey home. As days bleed into weeks, the farmer becomes less and less hung-up on the past and seems to be moving forward at his own leisure. The change is slow and steady at first, but noticeable nonetheless.

Sometime within the last week of their voyage, Edér knocks on her door in the middle of the night. The earthy scent of whiteleaf clings to him, saturating the air of her cabin as she beckons him inside. He looks flustered, his face creased by an insecure frown.

"Something wrong?" she inquires in a drowsy manner. "Must be, if it couldn't wait until morning."  
  
"I've been thinkin'," he reveals.  
  
"You?" she giggles. "Damn. You must be getting some severe headaches."  
  
He can't prevent the small smirk raising the corners of his mouth. "Spare me, will you? I'm trying to be serious for once."  
  
"Okay then. What's been gnawing at you?"  
  
Edér stares at anything but The Watcher, increasingly uncomfortable. "Remember that time you confessed having feelings for me? The deeper kind of feelings?"  
  
"Yeees," she confirms warningly, not thrilled by the reminder.  
  
"Well, I promised you'd be the first to know if I ever changed my mind on the matter..."  
  
Freya massages her temples. "Edér, will you get to the goddamn point already? You're slowly turning into Aloth."  
  
"All right, all right. Thing is, the thoughts I've been having 'bout you lately, they haven't been of the friendly sort. Not exclusively."  
  
She snorts. "That's it? Just like that? From one day to the next, you suddenly wake up and see me in a different light?"  
  
"It wasn't exactly sudden, I'd say. More like, overtime."  
  
"How long?" she scowls.  
  
"I dunno," he shrugs. "Weeks? Months?"  
  
"Months?" she exclaims, aggravated.  
  
"I know, I should have said something sooner—"  
  
"You think?!"  
  
"I hadn't realized it yet. Maybe Serafen was right. Maybe I've been foolin' myself. Might be, I've been feeling this way about you since the beginning."  
  
She rolls her eyes and grunts, beyond herself.  
  
"You've got to understand," he continues, "I really thought we wouldn't make it. The idea of starting something that would never have time to flourish... it scared me. Denial was easier, I guess."  
  
"Oh, come on, Edér! That's a load of bullshit! What would have happened if Elafa had still been alive? You're telling me you wouldn't have tried to start something with her? Rekindle your old flame? Even if you thought there was a big chance you were going to die?"  
  
"That's different. Even if I had died, she'd still be alive, Bearn too. She'd still have her son, and a future. What about you? Far be it from me to brag but, you'd propably have been devastated. And if you'd been the one to die while I stayed alive, then I'd be the one to mourn you for the rest of my days."  
  
"Well, none of us are dead. Except for your ex-girlfriend and your would-be son. How's that for planning ahead?" That came out harsher than she'd wanted. She sways her head left and right, ashamed of herself. "Forgive me, that was low."  
  
"T'was, yes."

 _Ondra's teats, I'm such a bitch._  
  
"I'm really sorry," she reiterates with a downcast expression.  
  
"'S'fine. You're angry. I'd be too, in your place."  
  
She paces back and forth, miffed and agitated. "This has to be the shittiest confession in the entire history of mankind."  
  
"Told you I was bad at these things."  
  
"I should be jumping up and down right now, completely enraptured. But all I wanna do is punch you in your stupid fucking face. That or..."  
  
"Or?" he urges, a gleam of hope in his sad eyes.  
  
_Can't even stay mad at him. Not when he gives me this look. That's how hopeless I am._  
  
"So," he drawls hesitantly, "should I take this as a no? If you need time to think, I—"  
  
"What do you think you big oaf? I've been waiting for this for years."  
  
"Let me make it up to you then."  
  
His hand seizes her waist to draw her close. His gaze drifts to her lips and she catches the speck of heat flashing in it. He takes a sharp breath through his nose, as though to banish his nerves. That little tic alone is enough to make her doubts resurface.

"Wait," she requests, reluctantly interrupting the progressive dive of his lips upon hers. "You sure about this? I don't want to be a substitute for... what you really want but can't have anymore." He looks hurt by the suggestion. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you're the kind of person who uses people. But grief can make people do desperate things in order to feel the tiniest bit of relief."  
  
"Hey," he takes hold of her chin between his thumb and index finger, searching for her evasive eyes. "Where's the girl who looked me in the eye and told me she could change my mind?"  
  
"I think she got rejected by an idiot farmboy. Took a real blow to the ego."  
  
"Funny, I remember the boy tellin' her he was real fond of her."  
  
"Well, if that's true then... I guess she should give him a chance to prove it."  
  
"Heh, great idea."  
  
She's grinning like an imbecile when he swoops down to kiss her. He tastes like smoke, as well as the grog they had for dinner, and something else she can't pinpoint. Something inherently Edér, manly and sweet altogether. As she gets more and more lost to the sensation of his mouth brushing against hers, she suddenly feels sunlight hitting her face, which doesn't make any sense. It's night and her room has no porthole. The phenomenon is oddly reminiscent of her dreams, and sporadic visions of a golden wheat field come back to her in a rush.  
  
_Did I get prophetic dreams? Like Xoti?_

"Everything all right?" Edér asks, sensing her distraction.  
  
"Y-Yeah... Sorry. Just felt some sort of weird deja vu."  
  
"Ah. What kind of thoughts have you been havin' for that to happen, huh?"  
  
"Oh, shut it."  
  
"I ain't complaining," he shrugs. "Thought it was me being way out of practice."  
  
"Not at all," she reassures, her nails caressing his beard. "You're perfect."  
  
He snorts. "You sure know how to stroke a man's ego."  
  
There's plenty of other things she'd rather stroke right now, and she's eager to show him.  
  
Chuckling, she shoves him backwards until the back of his knees bump into the wooden chair he usually sits in whenever she's passed out. He plops into the seat before she even has to tell him. He lets her take control, never one to complain for not being in charge. He wouldn't let her lead him into dangerous adventures everyday, if it was the case. She rids him of his clothes at a leisurely pace, taking her sweet time, and when his fingers start twitching too much, he heartily returns the favor. He guides her in his lap as soon as his pants are on the floor, sighing at the way her palms appreciatively run up and down his bare torso.  
  
Naked, she shivers at the feeling of his hardness against her thigh and retakes possession of his softened mouth. She's amazed by the amount of gentleness and restraint he demonstrates, considering his impressive strength. She's having trouble holding back herself, especially when his tongue proceeds to glide along her sternum and lap the swell of her breasts with an endearing incertitude. She grabs a fistful of his straw-colored hair, egging him on. A gratified groan reverberates deep within his throat at the gesture.

Rugged fingers begin exploring the tender spot between her trembling thighs. She withholds her answering whine, her own hand finding his painfully stiff erection so as to carry out a well-deserved retribution. He flinches at her touch, trying his best to focus on the motions performed by his digits. She takes great pleasure in undermining his concentration with a few flicks of her wrist.

The man kisses her again in an attempt to distract her from her scheme. This sensuous ritual endures for several more minutes. She shies away from his ministrations at some point, using her teeth to tug at his lower lip.  
  
Deeming her wet enough for them to progress further, he hoists her from his lap effortlessly, her legs encircling his hips as a reflex, and walks up to the bed, depositing her atop the sheets.  
  
With his body perfectly positioned above her and his weight supported by his forearms, Edér wastes no time entering her. Considerate, he waits for her to adjust to his girth, then drives into her with languid but powerful thrusts, his larger shape dwarfing her own as his strong hands hold her in place underneath him. The sound of their coupling rapidly fills the room, accompanied by diverse moans and grunts.  
  
"I don't think I can last long," he pants. "Been a while."  
  
"Don't care," she huffs. "Just want you."  
  
"Heh. Not gonna last at all if you say things like that."

She honestly couldn't care less.

Besides, she's quite close to the edge already. He's not the only one coming out of a long period of celibacy.

Edér's fingers slide into place between hers, squeezing her hand with affection. Her eyes capture his, and she does her best to convey the fondness and admiration she feels for him through a simple stare. He reciprocates without delay.

Her climax takes him by surprise, triggering his own. Her nails scratch the expanse of his back, leaving red marks in their wake. They both deaden their blissful cries by crushing their mouths to the other's neck.

Worn out and sweaty, they take comfort in each other's embrace, their breathing eventually coming back to normal.

"Fye, finally, the lad plowed her proper! All that tension was startin' to get to me!" Iselmyr hollers from Aloth's room.  
  
Freya's face finds refuge into Edér's shoulder just in time for her to muffle her hysterical laughter. He joins in straightaway, not bothering to hide it.

Perhaps they hadn't been as discreet as they'd thought.  
  
Entangled together and thoroughly satiated, the lovers bring the night to a close by sleeping to their hearts' content.

 


End file.
